


The Last Lie

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Series: A Loyal Man [2]
Category: Wiseguy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1995-04-30
Updated: 1995-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny finds out, Sonny gets even, Vinnie gets upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the sequel to _A Loyal Man_. Content includes violence and unwanted sexual attention. Originally published in the printed zine "Risk." Thanks to Kenna, Gayle, and Tashery for feedback and encouragement.

Sonny Steelgrave stood by the reception desk, arms folded, looking very pissed off. Vinnie began his apology but got cut off by Sonny's, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Sonny."

Still frowning, Sonny relaxed a little. "C'mon, let's go. Pat'll be there by now."

Vinnie followed him out of the hotel, dreading this afternoon. They were on their way to a tuxedo fitting -- one of the final preparations for Sonny's wedding to Teresa Baglia -- and Pat-the-Cat Patrice was going to be there. And Patrice was the last person in the world Vinnie wanted to see.

Two nights ago, at Sonny's insistence, he'd offered his services to Patrice, and Pat had taken far more than Sonny could have imagined. The memory of Pat thrusting into him and calling him "a loyal man" sickened Vinnie. Now, the only way he wanted to see Pat-the-Cat was in handcuffs and on his way to the federal pen.

Although he tried to convince himself Patrice was the immeditate source of his unease, Vinnie knew there was more to it than that. The more to it being Sonny. Using some sort of sick sixth sense, Pat had divined Vinnie's own interest in Sonny. Although, being Pat-the-Cat, he had assumed the interest was purely physical lust, carrying none of the emotional baggage of passion or love. If only. Lust would have been less painful.

_Pain._ Somehow the word seemed too powerful and yet not comprehensive enough for what Vinnie felt, looking at Sonny now. _Pain_ was too strong to describe the ache he felt for Sonny's touch -- yet glossed over the conflicting desires which were threatening to devour him. The desire to do right and put an end to Sonny's empire. The desire to shed all the lies he'd buried himself in. The desire to make love to Sonny and feel, to its deepest and darkest intensity, the energy that attracted him to Sonny, that bound them together.

He watched Sonny striding from the lobby, watched with the bizarre confusion of affection and longing and dread he invariably felt around Sonny now. Doing his best to push the confusion aside, he followed.

\-----

The tuxedo place was on the outskirts of town, near one of the upscale suburbs members of la famiglia called home. It was strictly neutral -- like everything else in this wedding. Everything except the groom, his best man, and everyone else in the wedding party. There was a war coming and Vinnie was trapped right in the middle of it.

As they pulled up to the curb, Vinnie noticed Patrice's limousine parked in front. He felt ill just looking at it. Steeling himself for an encounter he would have given anything to avoid, he got out of the car and followed Sonny inside.

The place looked empty at first. Just rows of suits and a formica-topped counter. Sonny headed to the back and opened a door marked 'private.' Inside were Paul Patrice, one of his henchmen, and a tiny old man in his shirtsleeves, holding a measuring tape, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Sonny patted the old man's shoulder.

"Hey, Eddie, how's it going?"

"Just fine, Mr. Steelgrave," Eddie rasped. He helped Patrice out of his jacket. "Mr. Patrice here has an eye for style."

Sonny's lips locked in a sarcastic smile. "Yeah. No kidding."

Patrice turned around then, unbuttoning his shirt. Examining Sonny closely, he remarked, "It's good to see you looking so happy, Salvatore. You're not having second thoughts?"

"About my wedding? Or about having you as my best man?" asked Sonny with a laugh.

Pat smiled grimly at his joke, obviously not amused. Then his eyes traveled beyond Sonny and he spotted Vinnie standing next to the door and doing his best to blend in with the wall.

"And it's always a pleasure to see Vinnie," Pat said, casting an avaricious glance down Vinnie's body as he let Eddie strip his shirt off. Vinnie held back the disgust and anger he felt. He'd known Pat would be this way, openly gloating before Sonny, who had no idea about their shared secret. Still, it was worse than he imagined, having to stand there and watch Patrice get undressed. He involuntarily remembered the feel of Patrice's satin sheets, the design of the ceiling above Patrice's bed, the sound of Patrice's heavy, rhythmic breathing as he fucked him. Mouth dry, Vinnie shifted nervously and looked away as Eddie began to measure Pat's inseam.

His gaze fell on Sonny, who was looking at him intently. Something about that look nagged at him... It didn't seem malevolent, it didn't seem benign. Assessment, that's what it was. But for what? He didn't look away, he allowed himself the luxury of staring directly into Sonny's eyes, watching how even the dusty fluourescent light overhead sparked them with fiery glints.

Sonny turned away and began pawing through a rack of jackets. He pulled one out and fingered the material.

"What do you think of this one?" he asked Vinnie. Grateful for an excuse to move out of Patrice's line of vision, Vinnie joined Sonny and touched the jacket.

"It's okay," he said, an automatic response.

Sonny replaced the jacket and drew out another one. Vinnie stood there for a full fifteen minutes, watching Sonny choose and reject almost every jacket on the rack. It was so unlike him, who always knew exactly what he wanted. Something was bothering him. Uneasy, Vinnie looked up to catch Patrice contemplating them.

Sonny took a jacket over to the three-sided mirror and Eddie helped him into it. Patrice moved away, coming to stand next to Vinnie.

"Sonny really looks good in a tux, doesn't he?" he said, surreptitiously sliding a hand over Vinnie's ass. Vinnie tensed every muscle in his body in an effort not to twitch away in repulsion. Determinedly keeping his gaze on Sonny, he cleared his throat.

"Yeah, he looks great."

Patrice dropped his hand and walked away, gracing Vinnie with a feline smile. Vinnie saw Sonny's reflection watching him, that same intense look of assessment.

\-----

An hour later, and they were through. Vinnie was itching to leave. Patrice had watched him getting measured with ill-concealed carnal enjoyment. And whenever Vinnie looked to Sonny, Sonny looked away.

Patrice's henchman left first. Eddie pulled Sonny aside to discuss business details. "You go ahead. I'll meet you in the car," Sonny said in response to Vinnie's impatient look, so he headed out, soon joined by Pat-the-Cat.

"How are you, Vincenzo?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Mr. Patrice."

"Are you?" Patrice stopped abruptly, standing in front of the shop door and blocking Vinnie's exit. "I can see how much you still want Sonny," he said. "It's like some drug you can't get enough of."

Vinnie blanched. Pat wasn't going to let him forget that he knew about Vinnie's secret desire. Okay, that Patrice would tease him like this was predictable, but did he have to do it here, right under Sonny's nose? Vinnie glanced over his shoulder, but the back room door was still closed.

"But you know the problem with addictions," Pat continued, his eyes shining and voice cold. "They cloud your judgment. You can't see straight." He softened his voice a little. "Me, I like to keep my judgment clear."

Vinnie got the message, but he hated Pat's arrogance in delivering it.

"Not an addict, huh?"

Fury flashed in Patrice's eyes but he controlled his temper. Calmly, he said, "There are two ways to break an addiction, Vincenzo: cold turkey, or lethal overdose. You'd better decide how you're going to break this Steelgrave habit of yours, you understand?"

Vinnie wanted to wipe that smirk off the Cat's face with his fist and choke the life out of him. At the very least, he wanted to tell Patrice to go to hell. But he couldn't do any of that. He was trapped in a lie within a lie. As far as Pat was concerned, he was Patrice's boy now. He nodded obediently.

"I understand."

Patrice squeezed Vinnie's shoulder. "Good."

A noise caused Vinnie to look back. Sonny and Eddie emerged from the fitting room. Vinnie stood back from Patrice.

"I was just telling Vinnie I hope he'll come to Brooklyn if he gets bored. While you're away," Pat explained.

Sonny stopped in front of him, eyes wary. "Away?" he asked suspiciously.

Pat smiled. "You are taking Teresa on a honeymoon, aren't you?"

Sonny relaxed, grinning coldly. "Of course, Paul. A beautiful woman needs to be taken to beautiful places."

"Of course," said Patrice. With a slight incline of his head he said goodbye and left. Sonny glared at his departing form, brushed past Vinnie and headed for the car.

In the car, Vinnie could almost feel the heat of anger radiating from Sonny. He waited for Sonny to say something, but Sonny never did. It had to be Patrice, though Vinnie wondered what, exactly, had triggered Sonny today. Pat had been his usual smooth, egotistical self at the tuxedo fitting -- nothing Sonny wasn't used to. And if anyone should be seething at Patrice, it should be Vinnie.

After a while, he glanced over at Sonny, who sat in the passenger seat, jaw set, frowning at the road ahead.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sonny looked at him sharply, then let his anger cool. "Nothing."

At the hotel, Sonny slammed the car door behind him and rushed through the lobby to the elevators. Vinnie, determined to find out what was wrong, followed him. He caught up with him just as the elevator doors were closing, caught one door with his hand and squeezed himself inside. Sonny flicked him an irritated look but said nothing.

"Okay, what did I do?" Vinnie asked.

He waited, watching Sonny watching the floor numbers light up, entire body tense. Losing his patience, he grabbed Sonny's shoulder and spun him around.

"Sonny, look at me. What is it?"

He saw Sonny's temper flash, and braced himself for the outburst, but it never came. Sonny abruptly cooled, lips twisting into a sneer.

"That was some show you put on today, Terranova," he said, shrugging off Vinnie's touch.

Vinnie's hand dropped. "I don't get it."

Sonny smiled coldly. "I'm thinking maybe I should book the honeymoon suite for you and Pat instead."

Vinnie started to protest, when the elevator doors opened. Sonny stalked out, making for his office.

"Sonny! Wait!" Vinnie went after him, ignoring the startled looks from the secretaries. Inside Sonny's office, Vinnie shut the door. Sonny was pacing in quick, tight steps. He stopped and jabbed a finger at Vinnie.

"You. I can't believe you. What did he promise you, huh? A piece of my action? Maybe all of it. I can't believe you'd do this to me."

Vinnie couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sonny thought he'd really sold out to Pat-the-Cat? This was the final insult, after everything he'd gone through.

"Sonny, no. You've got it all wrong."

Sonny raised his eyebrows and gestured wildly. "Me? I've got it wrong? What, you think I'm blind? I was there today. What was that? The Cat was all over you, man. A little pat here, a little whisper there. I never would've believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

Vinnie's eyes widened. A sudden urge to punch Steelgrave in the mouth rose up in him, but he shoved it aside.

"Jesus! I don't believe this!" he exploded. "You were the one who sent me to Patrice. You were the one who insisted I pretend to sell you out. Remember that?"

"Yeah," Sonny snorted. "I remember. I told you to pretend, not to actually go through with it."

"Sonny," Vinnie gritted out, exasperated. "I haven't sold you out. You told me to play up to Patrice, so I played up to Patrice. You think I'd go over to him?"

Sonny was standing behind his desk. He stared at Vinnie, eyes narrowed, mouth drawn. He rested his fingertips on the glass desk top, leaned forward, and said in a low, harsh tone, "I know about the hit."

Vinnie stood perfectly still, ignoring the chill sliver of fear that pierced his spine. He licked his lips nervously.

"How?"

Sonny's eyes blazed. "How?! You ask me how?!" He regained his calm. "All that matters is that I didn't find out from you."

Vinnie's mind raced, searching for an explanation. He watched as Sonny crossed the room, shut the blinds to the outer office, then crossed back and opened a desk drawer. Vinnie didn't have to look to know what he was reaching in for.

"So now you're just gonna whack me in your own office? Oh, that's real smart, Sonny. The cops'll never know it was you."

Sonny replaced the gun and closed the drawer. "You deserve to die," he observed disdainfully, sitting down. "For being my Brutus, my executioner."

"I was going to tell you about the hit," Vinnie lied, voice sincere, begging to be believed.

Sonny stared up at him, obviously unconvinced. "Oh yeah? What were you going to do? Write it on my wedding cake?"

Vinnie seethed with resentment. Hell, it was Sonny's fault for sending him to Patrice in the first place, for using Vinnie as bait.

"I didn't sell you out to Patrice," he muttered angrily. "I was going to tell you, I swear." The more he watched Sonny's disbelieving face, the more his temper flared. "This is what you get!" he shouted. "This is what comes of these little games you play. Damn you, Sonny! I can't believe all I've done for you, and when it comes right down to it, you don't care."

Sonny, though still hostile, seemed taken aback by his anger. "All you've done for me," he repeated mockingly. "All you've done is stab me in the back." Glaring at Vinnie with cold contempt, he rose from the desk and turned to look out the window.

Vinnie came up behind him, took him by the shoulders and spun him around. "I slept with Patrice for you," he ground out, thrusting Sonny up against the window.

The second he said it, he wished he hadn't. He'd never intended to tell Sonny. Although deep inside he felt unburdened, he'd never wanted those words to let slip out. Damn Sonny for forcing him into this. His rage consuming him, he gripped Sonny harder, keeping him pinned to the window.

Sonny's eyes were wide, round. He frowned slightly. Vinnie watched the interplay of shock and disbelief in his expression, waiting for a reaction. When Sonny spoke, his voice was a dry hiss.

"You-- and Patrice?" His frown deepened, registering disgust. He stared at Vinnie as if he were diseased.

No way he was going to take this from Sonny. Before he could stop himself, Vinnie snarled, "Yeah. Me and Patrice. And know what? I enjoyed it. I liked spreading my legs for Patrice, and you know why? Because I pretended it was you."

Sonny's expression blanked. Vinnie immediately wanted to take back everything he'd just said. They stared at one another, silent and tense, each waiting for the other to make a move.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sonny said at last, voice quiet but hard.

"Every time I thought about it, I felt like I was gonna puke. Besides, tell you what?" Vinnie replied. "Tell you I wanna boff your brains out? That would've gone over real well..."

Sonny's eyes flashed for a split second. Vinnie relaxed his hold and took a step back. Sonny screwed his face up in disgust. "Yeah, but to go to Patrice--"

"I didn't go to him," Vinnie interrupted angrily. "You sent me, remember?"

"I didn't send you there to get laid," Sonny protested. "I sent you to get information."

"Yeah, well, Pat's method of recruitment included a visit to his bedroom. If I hadn't gone through with it, he would've known something was up."

Sonny seemed stunned. "You went through all that just to get Pat to believe in you?"

Vinnie thought of all the things he'd done to get Sonny to believe in him. He didn't answer.

"You did that for me," Sonny said, seeming to speak to himself. He relaxed, sighed. "Oh shit, Vinnie. You should've told me..." He hesitated, then reached out and lightly touched Vinnie's cheek with his fingertips. "I guess you were right -- you have done a lot for me."

His voice was a smooth, seductive purr. The touch of his fingers sent waves of electric heat through Vinnie's body. Sonny had to know, after Vinnie's confession, the reaction he was provoking. Was he being deliberately cruel? Vinnie brushed his hand away.

"Don't."

Sonny regarded him for a second. "Maybe you should have said something sooner."

Vinnie just stared at him, incredulous. "Why?" he asked, on the defensive. All he needed now was for Sonny to tease him, to turn this into a warped joke.

"Why do you think, smart guy?" Sonny responded, giving Vinnie's stomach a playful pat with the back of his hand.

"Sonny, don't do this. It's not funny," Vinnie growled.

Sonny turned from him, casually going over to the desk and rearranging the letter opener and fountain pen. "Why are you so sure I'm joking?" he asked, tone neutral but Vinnie could sense he was hiding something.

Oh God, he shouldn't have told Sonny. This was unbearable -- he would've preferred Sonny's wrath over this cold teasing.

"Damn it, Sonny," he said, grabbing Sonny's wrist and twisting him around to face him.

Sonny remained calm, did not try to break free. Head slightly tilted, eyelids heavy, he let the whisper of a smile cross his lips. "That's right," he invited softly. "Get as close as you want."

Vinnie, still clutching his wrist, wasn't sure whether to hit him or kiss him, then Sonny made his mind up for him. He moved in slowly, part-way, and Vinnie, in wonderment, matched his moves until their lips met. The sensation -- Sonny's smooth, warm lips touching him -- resonated through his body. Intensified his longing and hunger until he had his tongue in Sonny's mouth. Sonny used his free hand to pull Vinnie closer, fingers entangled in Vinnie's hair.

Vinnie remembered his hold on Sonny's wrist and let go, pulling away. Sonny kept his hand on Vinnie's neck, standing close, so close Vinnie could feel him breathing. He moved in as if to initiate another kiss, but paused, staring into Vinnie's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Vinnie wanted to answer, but wasn't sure what to say. So many thoughts crowding into his mind at once. He couldn't believe this was happening. He kept waiting to wake up, or for Sonny to punch his lights out, or whack him... Fifteen minutes ago they were arguing about Patrice and Sonny was reaching for a gun, now they'd just kissed and Sonny was caressing the nape of his neck, the touch making him dizzy with physical need. And he wanted to know what was wrong?

"Sonny... I don't know about this. I don't understand..."

Sonny's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you. Didn't you just say you wanted me to fuck you? Or did I get that wrong?"

Vinnie slowly shook his head. "No, but--"

"But what?" Sonny interrupted, impatient. He brushed closer, whispering, "Let's go for it, Vinnie. Whatever Pat can give, I can give you better."

Patrice?! This was about Patrice? Vinnie stepped back, out of Sonny's reach, furious.

"I don't fucking believe you, Sonny."

Sonny frowned. "What? What's the matter? You say you want me, then you act like you don't. What's wrong with you?"

Vinnie shook his head, ramming his hands onto his hips. "I'll tell you what's wrong. Jesus Christ, I tell you something that's been eating at my soul, and you think it's some kind of competition you have with Patrice. Whatever Pat-the-Cat has you've gotta have. Well, here's a newsflash: I'm not some goddamn toy for you and Patrice to fight over."

Sonny moved toward him, hands outspread, trying to calm him down. "Hey, I know that. Vinnie, please." He came up to him and rested his hand on Vinnie's shoulder, squeezing it while his eyes searched Vinnie's face for signs of refusal. "Look. Maybe I'm not handling this too good. I'm just trying to offer you something I thought you wanted."

Vinnie, not quite over his burst of anger, didn't say anything. Much as he wanted Sonny, he couldn't believe that Sonny would be willing to give him this.

"I'll admit," Sonny continued, running his hand over Vinnie's chest as if straightening his jacket, "I hate the thought of you and Patty... The idea makes me sick. But now, this has nothing to do with him. It's just about you and me, yeah?"

Vinnie looked into his eyes, intent, hiding nothing, and believed him.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Good," Sonny whispered with a smile.

"But I'm still not sure..." Vinnie trailed off, asking himself why he was so hesitant. Sonny was offering to make his wildest dreams come true.

Sonny was staring at him now, suspicious.

"Maybe I'm just worried this isn't really what you want," he mumbled, knowing that wasn't the real reason for his hesitation. The real reason was that he wanted this so badly it terrified him.

Sonny rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "Well, don't worry, okay? Hey, I've been around the block a few times. What, you think I'm a virgin?"

Vinnie didn't bother masking his surprise. Sonny chuckled softly and ran a hand along Vinnie's hip.

"Let's go get some dinner," Sonny suggested with a lazy wink.

\-----

Contrary to Vinnie's optimistic wish, they did not go down to the plush, mezzanine restaurant. Sonny pressed the button for the penthouse and they arrived at Vinnie's foyer. Sonny stepped out of the elevator, and Vinnie stayed back.

"What about dinner?" he asked.

"We'll order room service," Sonny told him. He gave Vinnie an assessing glance. "What's the matter? You don't want this?" He sounded half-insulted, half-angry.

Vinnie approached him, knowing this was foolish and dangerous. He was already too close to Sonny. Knowing nothing was going to stop him, anyway.

He stopped a few feet away, looking into those dark, round, glittering eyes, became lost in them. Yes, he wanted Sonny. He wanted him body and soul. That bastard Patrice was right: it was an addiction. His body craved Sonny like it craved food, water, air.

The sun was setting. A brilliant streak of orange blazed over Sonny's shoulder, highlighting soft wisps of hair, casting his face in shadows. Vinnie closed the distance between them but before he could make a move Sonny had grabbed his face with both hands and was kissing him. Hungry, animalistic, it was a predatory, devouring kiss and as Sonny rammed his tongue into Vinnie's mouth, Vinnie knew he wanted much more.

Hands spreading across Sonny's back, he pulled him closer. Sonny slid his hands down Vinnie's sides and cupped his buttocks, emitting a low hum of approval. Vinnie took two steps back and hit the wall, Sonny crushing into him. Vinnie ran a hand through Sonny's hair and kissed him sweetly, but Sonny turned it into another hot, invasive, oral exploration.

Between Sonny's tongue teasing his mouth and Sonny's fingers gripping his buttocks, Vinnie was starting to get warm, to get hard. Sonny lifted one of Vinnie's legs and stroked the underside of his thigh. Frenzied, Vinnie arched his back and ground his hips against Sonny's. His hands stumbled into Sonny's jacket, drawing out his shirttails, wandering towards the warm skin underneath.

Sonny briefly relinquished his hold on Vinnie to shrug off his jacket but immediately returned his hands to Vinnie's ass, hoisting him forward. Vinnie felt Sonny's erection pressing against his and threw his head back against the wall with a guttural moan. Sonny's mouth descended upon Vinnie's neck, biting, licking, sucking, while he held Vinnie's ass and humped against him. Vinnie dug his fingers into Sonny's flesh, heart pounding, panting for breath.

Sonny's hand travelled over Vinnie's hip to tug down Vinnie's zipper. He let his hand roam beneath Vinnie's shirt and into his undershorts. Vinnie felt the base of Sonny's hand nudge the tip of his cock and trembled expectantly. Sonny's tongue traced around his earlobe and he heard a breathy, "Oh yeah, Terranova. You want it."

Vinnie shut his eyes, gulped, and nodded. He stood stock-still while Sonny's hand glided over his sweat-slick skin, navigating across his belly, down the join of pelvic bone and leg, to settle at his balls, which he squeezed just enough to cause Vinnie to inhale sharply. All the while whispering roughly, "Oh yeah. This is what you want. I'm gonna fuck your brains out. I'm gonna fuck you until you die, Vinnie, because you want me to." And the coarse stream of words only made Vinnie hotter, more desperate.

Sonny very carefully released his hold and stepped back, flinging his shirt across the room. Vinnie ripped his tie and jacket off and let his trousers fall to the floor, slipped out of his shoes and socks. He was pulling off his shirt when Sonny closed the gap between them and asked quietly, "Do you want it on the floor or on the bed?"

Vinnie could feel the blood swirling around inside him, rushing to his limbs, his groin, his head. Sonny gazed at him, desire gleaming in his eyes, deadly serious but smiling slightly -- just enough so that Vinnie knew he was enjoying this. Wanted this. Wanted him. The thought awakened inside Vinnie: Sonny wanted him. Questions began to form, questions he ignored, guided only by simple fact -- he wanted Sonny, Sonny wanted him. It was something he couldn't have foreseen, wouldn't let himself wish for. Sonny wasn't doing this to prove a point, or to get even with Patrice, or to keep his right hand man happy. He was doing this because he genuinely wanted to, and Vinnie was awestruck at the revelation.

Sonny was staring into him, and he remembered there was a question pending. "The bed," he said, wondering if they could really last the five yards to the bedroom.

Shedding the remainder of his clothes he followed Sonny into the bedroom. Obscured by shadows, Sonny stripped with calm, unhurried motions. Vinnie found himself holding back, refraining from touching Sonny's naked skin like he wanted to. He wasn't reluctant -- God, no -- but there was still a hesitation in his mind. Underneath it all, he knew this was a mistake. He was losing his balance, getting seduced by Sonny in every possible way, but at that moment, sitting on the bed, waiting for Sonny to engulf him, he would have died before he'd say 'no.'

Sonny surprised him by kneeling beside the bed and settling in between Vinnie's legs. Involuntarily, a flashback of Paul Patrice doing exactly the same thing stabbed at Vinnie's memory and he tensed. Sonny, misinterpreting the reaction, massaged Vinnie's legs in a steady, soothing rhythm. Vinnie sprawled backward and a second later was joined by Sonny, who slid a knee between his legs. Sonny propped himself up on one arm, the other hand splayed over Vinnie's chest, and let his eyes travel the length of Vinnie's body.

"Mm-mm. This is some view," he remarked appreciatively. He closed two fingers around Vinnie's right nipple and teased it with languid, circular movements. "I guess I can't blame Paul for putting the moves on you. This kind of beauty is hard to resist."

Vinnie glared at him, and grasped Sonny's cock roughly. "How hard?" he asked in his toughest voice, hoping Sonny would get the hint and drop the subject of Pat-the-Cat once and for all.

Thrusting into Vinnie's grasp, Sonny grinned. He blew hot breath in his ear, purring, "I like you getting hard-ons for me. I like knowing how much you want me to fuck you. It turns me on, Vinnie, knowing how much you'd do for me, how far you'd go." He kissed behind Vinnie's ear, nuzzling his hair. "I've never had someone like you by my side."

Vinnie turned away, overwhelmed and disturbed. Sonny was kissing his neck, caressing him, tormenting his cock. Vinnie fought back the feelings of guilt which had started to compete for his attention, let go of all the nagging doubts and turned back to Sonny, taking his face in his hands and kissing him desperately.

Sonny reached beneath Vinnie's legs, gave his balls a quick, taunting grope, then Sonny's index and middle fingers were inside him, pumping his ass. Vinnie gasped, breathing fifty times faster. He hooked a leg over Sonny's waist, wrapping himself around him, clutching his shoulders, devouring his neck. He felt Sonny's cock, warm, wet, hard, against his leg and nudged it slightly. He rolled Sonny onto his back and sat astride him while Sonny's hands worked his ass. He reluctantly pulled away, took Sonny's cock in hand and bent down to envelop it with his mouth.

Sonny's fingers tangled in his hair as Vinnie slid his tongue around the tip, tasting the salty pre-come. He drew it in further, washing it with slow, fluid licks. Sonny was nearly ripping his hair out, and his cock was deliciously hot, throbbing in Vinnie's mouth. He would love to give Sonny a blow job, but no, that wasn't what he was aching for now. He didn't care if it hurt, a rough fuck was his primal need. He hungered to feel Sonny inside him.

He rose up and settled on his back, locking his legs around Sonny, who entered him, thick, hot. Shoulders bolted to the bed, he groaned in pleasured pain, ground down to welcome him and they began to move, crashing against each other. A sweet burning sensation pounded into him. Layer after layer stripped away until they were raw flesh and bone merging. All of his energy and emotion poured forth and all of Sonny's energy and emotion poured into him.

Sonny thrust harder, scorching within him, scalding away all feeling until there was an instant when he was hyper-aware -- the sheen of perspiration on Sonny's chest, the atomic heat and constant motion between his thighs, the pressure mounting in his cock.

A flash of blinding light and the raw mass of flesh they had become combusted. As Sonny's cock erupted inside him, he was dragged to climax, thrown headlong into a solid wall of fire. He savored the moment, the fleeting remnants reverberating in and around him, soldered to Sonny with heat, flesh, and semen. The delirium lingered, wrapping him in a thick fog, gradually dispelled when Sonny released him.

They lay there a long time, staring at nothing, not moving, aware of every particle of each other's being. Sonny stretched out beside him, casually running the back of his hand over Vinnie's chest, knuckles skating from nipple to nipple.

"Mmm-hmm," Sonny sighed in some sort of acknowledgment of assent. Vinnie wiped a hand across his sweat-drenched forehead, still struggling for breath, then wrapped his arms around Sonny's midriff, resting his head on Sonny's shoulder.

"We have to talk," Sonny said, fingertips skimming along his arm.

Vinnie released him and leaned back, instantly chilled. Yeah, they had to talk big time. About minor details, like: what in the hell had just happened, and what were they going to do now? Vinnie wasn't sure of anything, except he wished there wasn't a wall of lies between them. He wanted to destroy that wall, but had no idea how to do it without also destroying them both.

Sonny sat back, settling comfortably against Vinnie's shoulder. He rested a hand on Vinnie's knee. "I've thought about us getting together like this before," he said. "Funny how it took a snake like Pat-the-Cat to make it happen." He smiled at Vinnie's wide-eyed expression. "Surprised, huh?"

Vinnie was beyond surprised -- shocked, that was more like it. All this time, and Sonny had been thinking the same thoughts... It was both a comforting and a depressing realization.

"And I'm glad it happened," Sonny continued, rubbing Vinnie's knee. "Everything is going my way, I can feel it. This marriage is going to be the best move I ever made. From the Bronx to Atlantic City, everything is going to be mine. I'll have Teresa to give me sons, and I'll have you right by my side. We're going to be a great team, Vinnie," he promised. "In bed and everywhere else," he added with a lewd grin, softly kissing Vinnie's cheek.

Vinnie lowered his eyes, feeling the wall of lies pressing in on him. For months he'd told himself that what he felt for Sonny was lust and nothing more. A physical attraction, chemistry, only skin-deep. But that was just another lie -- to himself. He loved Sonny. Despite all the reasons why he shouldn't, despite knowing that he still had to turn Sonny in, he loved him. He braced himself for the internal onslaught of guilt, doubt, and recrimination, but all he felt was the warmth of love and contentment. He wrapped his arm around Sonny's shoulders and hugged him closer.

"Mmm," Sonny sighed. "You getting hungry?"

"I'm starving," replied Vinnie, only now aware of that fact himself.

"Order us some room service, okay? And we can discuss a little business."

Vinnie frowned. "Business?"

Sonny sat up and gazed into Vinnie's eyes, calm, serious. "Yeah. There's something I want you to take care of for me. I was going to do it myself but I figure what the hell. I think you'll enjoy this as much as I was gonna."

Vinnie stared at him expectantly, the empty pit in his stomach having nothing to do with his hunger.

Smiling pleasantly, obviously proud of his generosity, Sonny told him, "I want you to kill Patrice."


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Vinnie saw when he opened the back door of the deserted garage was a yellowed 1986 Motorcycle Babes calendar. Miss November looking a lot like Madonna and getting friendly with her Kawasaki. From somewhere beyond the calendar Frank's voice came, "What's the emergency?"

He sounded more tired than worried. Perhaps that was a good sign. Vinnie wanted -- no, needed -- a calm Frank now more than anything.

Stepping fully into the garage office and leaning against a dusty counter, Vinnie hesitated before answering, "We have to go in with what we've got. We can't wait for the wedding."

McPike's eyes took on that ready-to-hit-the-roof look Vinnie dreaded. Jaw set, he asked, "Why?"

"Sonny knows about the hit."

Frank's eyes widened, his frown deepened, and Vinnie could see him adding two plus two and getting five.

"I expressly told you not to tell him," Frank grated.

"I didn't tell him," Vinnie countered. "He already knew about it."

"How?"

"I don't know. Does it matter? He wanted to know why I didn't tell him."

Frank relaxed just a little. "What did you say?"

Vinnie shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the floor, shrugging. "I said I was going to tell him. Had to do some backpeddling. I'll tell you, it wasn't easy."

"Do you think he bought it?"

Vinnie stared even harder at the cracked cement floor. "Yeah."

Frank moved closer. "You're sure? Look, Vince, if you're not 110% certain, I'm pulling you out right now," Frank said, voice rising slightly. "If he thinks you're holding back on him, you are history."

Vinnie looked up. "I'm sure, okay? I convinced him." He knew he looked guilty, and imagined Frank could somehow see his memories, see the truth.

Frank gave him a doubtful look. "There's something you're not telling me, and I just know I'm not gonna like it."

Vinnie sighed in resignation. He hadn't wanted to tell anybody, not Sonny, least of all Frank... "Sonny believes me because I told him about my meet with Patrice. How I sealed my cover with Pat."

Frank waited, gaze drilling into him. "And?"

Vinnie shifted restlessly. "I slept with Patrice."

Frank stared at him in shock. "You what?!" Frank made a visible effort to remain calm. He took a short pace backward, turned, turned again, paced back.

Vinnie watched as the shock wore off, replaced by irritated surprise.

"How come I'm only finding out about this now?" His voice cracked a little. He was keeping his temper in check, for which Vinnie was grateful.

Hands in pockets, shoulders knotted up, Vinnie shook his head. "I wanted to forget about it, Frank. I didn't want to think about it."

Frank was silent for a moment. He said, "I can understand that." He was trying to be patient, to be sympathetic, Vinnie could tell from his tone of voice. "But something like this -- you shouldn't have held back on me. This changes everything," he concluded unhappily.

"Why? What does it change?" Vinnie asked, sensing the answer and already feeling defensive.

Despite his frown, Frank actually looked embarrassed. "You got involved with Patrice. That puts you too close. That--"

"I didn't get involved with him!" Vinnie exploded. "I let him fuck me. It was his way of welcoming me to the fold. Trust me, Frank, I couldn't be less involved with Patrice."

Frank looked away, seemed about to argue but backed down, remaining quiet, unhappy. Vinnie let his burst of anger subside.

After a while, Frank said, "I don't like this. We go in now, we won't have enough on Patrice and Mahoney." He sucked on a tooth, making a noise of disapproval. "This was the closest we've ever been."

"I know," Vinnie agreed irritably. "But the wedding will be too late. Sonny's asked me to whack Patrice."

Frank shook his head. "These boys are priceless. This isn't a wedding they're planning, it's a massacre. What're you supposed to do?"

"They're having Sonny's bachelor party the night before. I'm supposed to keep Pat occupied, get him alone, ice him, then step in as best man."

Frank walked around the office, thinking. "What time is all this supposed to go down?"

Vinnie shrugged. "I don't know. Before breakfast, I guess." He watched Frank carefully. "But it doesn't matter. We're going in now, right?"

Frank stopped in front of him. "If we can get Steelgrave on conspiracy to murder, he goes away for life. And if we can link Mahoney to it--"

"No." Vinnie folded his arms over his chest, hoping he wasn't being so quick to refuse because he couldn't face the idea of Sonny in jail for life. Goddamnit, putting Sonny away was the reason he was here, it was his job, it was his personal goal.

Standing before Frank, all this was very clear. But then he'd go back to Sonny, and suddenly nothing was clear, everything was grey and blurred, his love for Sonny overshadowing the fact of who Sonny really was.

"No," he repeated uncertainly. Frank stopped to stand next to him, tense, almost ready to unleash his impatience.

"I'm not giving you a choice on this one, Vince," he said, speaking quietly, steadily. Vinnie tried to think of a reason why Frank should. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, feeling like the world was draining away from him. "We'll wait for the wedding."

\-----

Aldo Baglia and Scullisi staggered through the double doors, a whore on each arm, chuckling like old buddies. Vinnie unhappily watched them disappear, the last to leave the banquet.

Crystal clinked next to him, forcing his attention to his sole companion. Paul Patrice was filling their empty glasses with champagne.

"You surprise me, Vinnie," he said.

Vinnie gave him a questioning look.

"You didn't want to take part in the 'entertainment' of the evening? Why not?" Pat smirked.

"Maybe I wanted to be alone with you," Vinnie replied, the words like sharp nails on his tongue. He glanced at his watch. Only two hours to go. Two hours of keeping Patrice happy, unsuspicious, and alive.

Patrice arched an eyebrow. "Really? That's very flattering." He got up and moved to sit at the head of the table, settling in close to Vinnie. "What's the matter? Feeling the frustration?" His voice lowered to a conspiratorial purr. "You can tell me. I understand." He placed a hand over Vinnie's and squeezed it. Vinnie sat motionless, straining not to pull his hand away.

He looked at Pat, a new idea forming, and smiled confidently. "I bet you do. You get hard-ons for Sonny yourself, don't you?"

For a split-second, Patrice scowled, but he immediately masked his anger and slid back into his easy, malevolent familiarity.

"Maybe I do," he said, voice crisp and cold like a January breeze. His eyes flicked towards the doors, as if Sonny were there. "Who wouldn't? Sonny has his charms." His smile faded. "But I don't dwell on the past, and neither should you."

"The past?" Vinnie asked, a sick, hollow feeling overwhelming him as he wondered if Sonny and Pat had ever shared something other than their hatred. He quickly discarded the thought.

"Sonny _is_ the past, Vincenzo," Patrice said, lifting his hand to loosen his collar.

"And I guess that makes you the future," Vinnie said, never ceasing to be amazed by Pat's boundless arrogance.

Pat settled back in his chair, flourished his champagne glass and said, "The only future you need to worry about."

Vinnie thought, _You don't know how right you are, you son-of-a-bitch,_ but said, "Do I have to worry?"

Pat's eyes darkened and cooled as he replied, "That's something you'd better ask yourself."

Vinnie was starting to feel chilly and light-headed. Time seemed to be creeping past, and he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He hadn't been sure what to expect once he got Patrice alone. He'd imagined Pat inviting him back to his room and had just about given himself up to the thought of another unpleasant fuck with Pat-the-Cat. Instead, they were lounging here in the banquet room, surrounded by the wreckage of the meal and the scent of cigars and whore's perfume, playing word games. Vinnie wearily rubbed his eyes and slumped forward over the table, head in hands.

Pat's voice murmured in his ear, "Time for bed, Vincenzo." He felt Patrice's hand run up his leg and settle on his crotch. He slowly opened his eyes.

Ah. There it was. The invitation. Now that it had been made, was real, and Patrice was fondling him, Vinnie was certain he couldn't go through with it. Not again. Not now. His mind began searching for excuses, ways of stalling, and he remained where he was, not moving, not responding, as Patrice stood up and moved behind him, running his hands over Vinnie's shoulders, capturing his jaw and bending his head aside to plant a warm, succulent kiss on Vinnie's neck.

Pat's lips and tongue slid over his throat and Pat dug his fingers into Vinnie's hair, pulling him back. His other hand reached down to Vinnie's waist and began to undo his  
trousers. And Vinnie sat still, cold sweat pouring down his back and forehead, senses revolting, sharp memories -- of Patrice's satin sheets, of Sonny's warm, smooth skin -- jabbing at him. Patrice's fingers burrowed into his underwear.

Vinnie was just about to pull away, to lash out and send Pat across the room, no  
matter what the cost, when there was a sound in the distance. A sort of swinging thud, the sound of the double doors... Vinnie's eyes flew to the opposite end of the room and there, like a nightmare, stood Sonny. Too far away to see his expression clearly but Vinnie could imagine the damning look in his eyes.

"And just what the fuck is this?" Sonny said, striding over to them.

Vinnie was so intent on him he hardly noticed as Pat straightened up, hand leaving his underwear, but the other still firmly entangled in his hair.

"Look at this," Pat said, smiling down at Vinnie. "Sonny's come to join us."

Vinnie met Sonny's glare head-on and wished he hadn't -- it was like staring into the sun -- and twisted away from Patrice's hold. "Sonny, no, it's not--"

"It's not _what_?" Sonny spat out, visibly trembling with anger. "I come down here and find Patrice all over you. You tell me: what is it, huh? You couldn't bring yourself to kill this cocksucker or what? Tell me, Vinnie, and make it good, 'cause this will be the last lie to leave your mouth."

Vinnie started to rise, he had to explain, the words -- the truth -- were rushing to his mouth, but something caught at him, something stopped him. Patrice. Patrice had watched this exchange and had stepped closer to the table, reaching for something.

Vinnie let out a warning cry, but Sonny was two steps ahead of him, had already seen Pat and rushed behind him. He pulled Pat away from the table, into the chair, held him down with one arm while he fished in his pocket and produced a wire. Vinnie grabbed at Sonny, trying to pull him away. Sonny pushed him roughly, he toppled backwards to the floor.

And as he rose, it was all a flash of movement -- Sonny's hands gripping the wire and wrapping it around Pat's neck, Pat struggling, shaking, hands clawing at Sonny, hair falling over his eyes. Vinnie watched in horror, not wanting to believe his eyes, feeling disjointed, distant from what was happening. A feeling that disappeared as Sonny, twisting the life out of Pat-the-Cat, looked up from his victim and shot Vinnie a disgusted glare.

"Take a good look, Terranova. You're next."

Vinnie slid back into his chair, winded, nauseous. Pat dead, Sonny released him, let him fall forward onto the floor. Sonny kicked the body aside, calmly sat down in the vacated chair, and said in a rough, pain-etched whisper, "I don't get it."

Vinnie inwardly flinched from the tone of hurt in his voice.

"You know," Sonny continued, "when you told me about you and Pat, I sorta felt guilty. Like it was because of me you did that."

Vinnie licked his lips nervously. His mouth was incredibly dry. "Sonny, listen--"

"No, you listen," Sonny cut in irritably. "I don't have time for any more of your shit. I just wanna know -- why? Were you Pat's boy all along or did he win you over with his 'charm?'" He flicked a contemptuous glance at the corpse on the floor. "Did he promise you my action?" He leaned forward, rage in his eyes, mouth tight. "Or was he just a better fuck?"

Vinnie controlled his anxious fear. Maybe if he could just keep Sonny talking... Maybe if he could just keep from remembering the sight of Sonny garroting Patrice... Maybe if he could just forget he still loved Sonny despite everything... Maybe if he could just concentrate on staying alive...

"Sonny," he said, and paused, expecting to be interrupted. Sonny said nothing. Didn't need to. His expression said it all. Vinnie went on, "I was never Patrice's man, you know that. Yeah, he was all over me, but not because I wanted it. You gotta believe me, Sonny, I would never leave you for Patrice."

Sonny made a show of inspecting his fingernails. "Then tell me this: why was he even still alive? You've been in here alone with him over an hour. Why was it up to me when you said you'd take care of him?"

Vinnie didn't reply, not sure which would get him killed faster: the idea that he was in with Patrice or the truth. He shifted uneasily under Sonny's frigid scrutiny until Sonny suddenly got up and went over to the phone. Vinnie heard him say, "Time for Paul to leave," then he was back, standing behind Vinnie's chair. Vinnie checked his watch. Oh God, not long now...

"No one's coming to save you, Vinnie," Sonny said harshly.

A few minutes later Aldo Baglia showed up. He offered Sonny a gun, which Sonny refused with a shake of his head. Vinnie sat at the table, stealing glances at his watch, knowing that even if the OCB rescued him, this nightmare would never be over. He was in love with a murderer, a man who choked the life out of another man right before his eyes.

Sonny and Aldo lifted Pat-the-Cat and stuffed him into the hollow table beneath the melted ice sculptures.

"Scullisi?" Sonny asked.

"I locked him up with Royce. Keep him company," Aldo said with a gruesome smile. "Not that he'll be doing any talking. But at least he won't have to listen to Royce's whimpering."

Patrice in his coffin, Aldo wheeled it away, leaving them alone. Vinnie checked his watch again, a nervous gesture, not even seeing it.

"You look at that watch again, I'll shoot you where you stand," Sonny muttered, sitting down again. A moment of silence.

"I just don't get it," he said again. Vinnie looked up, into those dark eyes burning with anger, yes, but something else: stark, desperate pain. The pain of a trust betrayed, a love lost... Vinnie lowered his eyes.

"I really believed you, Vinnie," Sonny was saying. "Pat would be proud. You were very convincing."

"It was the truth, Sonny," Vinnie whispered hoarsely, slowly lifting his eyes.

"That line is not gonna work twice," Sonny said angrily. "I trusted you once too often."

Vinnie realized he could not win. Whether it was with Patrice, or the Feds, he had betrayed Sonny. Sonny may be wrong about the motives, but he recognized betrayal. So Vinnie sat, shaken, waiting for whatever came first -- the OCB crashing in or Sonny taking his life.

There was one thing he could say that Sonny might believe, a truth he had never hidden, a truth beyond denial.

"Sonny," he started to say, "I love--" but the phone rang, interrupting, and Sonny answered it.

Vinnie heard a muffled rapidfire drone, and Sonny saying, "Okay, Aldo. Calm down. What?" Pause. "Cops? Coming here?"

Vinnie rose from the table slowly, watching Sonny, allowing himself to feel some relief that the OCB was on the way.

Sonny hung up. "Cops," he repeated to himself in disbelief. He lifted his eyes, stared at Vinnie, pain and fury beginning to shade his features.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" he asked in a rough whisper.

Vinnie gaped, unable to reply. Sonny rushed toward him. "A cop!" he shouted, tackling Vinnie and sending him flying.

They crashed over the table, upsetting a few chairs and a floral centerpiece. Sonny's fists beat into him, and Vinnie gathered his strength to fight him off, when Sonny abruptly stopped. He stood up, hesitated, looking down on Vinnie with pure hatred raging in his eyes. Then he bolted from the room.

Surprised at his release, Vinnie watched him go, unsure what to do. Unsure if he followed, if he caught Sonny, what would happen. A heaviness crushed down on him as, through the mire and chaos of murder and violence, realization struck. If he didn't follow, he'd never see Sonny again.

He lept to his feet and went after Sonny.

(the end)


End file.
